


I See The Way You Shine

by sister_dear



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Modern Girl in Thedas, Spirits are people too, background inquisitor/cassandra, brief mention of offscreen character death, pure fluff, she got better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24056827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_dear/pseuds/sister_dear
Summary: Insight only wanted to give the Inquisitor advice. He called her a demon and told her to leave his dreams alone. Rude.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 131





	I See The Way You Shine

**Author's Note:**

> Hello fandom, I missed you. We could all use something lighthearted right now, yes?

The girl woke up. An echo, as of a door slamming shut, faded in her ears. Ears? Did she have those? Yes, she supposed she did. How else was she to hear a door slamming?

She opened her eyes - she had those too - and everything was green and foggy, all indistinct shapes and looming shadows. She’d never seen this place before. It felt right. It felt familiar. There was a man. He was stirring as well, looking around with wide eyes and cradling one hand in the other.

Hands. Those were useful. She decided she must have hands too.

Something green sparked on his palm. Ah. Yes.

“Don’t drink too much at the party,” she told him. “That will make it hard to run from the dragon.”

He’d been looking at the Anchor. Now his eyes snapped to her, widening. “What?” But then he disappeared. Just left mid conversation. Rude.

-0-

The landscape shifted slowly around her. Ruins faded to ghostly trees and back to ruins. They morphed into a collection of buildings, bursting with purpose. She would like to explore. How did one explore things? Legs? Legs seemed a lot of trouble. Why stay tied to the ground like that? She was floating here just fine without them. Now eyes. Those were certainly helpful. She had some. She tried on a few more.

No, too many. Just two eyes will do. Something else?

She hadn’t gotten very far when he appeared again. Not drunk. Good. He’d listened to her about the dragon. He’s not in good shape otherwise. “You shouldn’t have woken up. I wasn’t done giving you advice,” she said petulantly.

He squinted at her, groaned. Dropped his head back to the insubstantial earth. “You weren’t a figment of my imagination, then.”

She paused. Was she? “Maybe,” she told him, shrugging. She had shoulders. Shoulders were good for shrugging. Very expressive. They could stay.

“Look, it’s been a rather long day. Please go away.”

So rude! “No.”

He sat up with a groan. He really did look terrible. Humans. So fragile. “Why are you bothering me? I’m no mage.”

She gave him a look of pure pity. Poor soul. He really wasn’t that bright. She pointed at his hand. With her own hands. Which she had. Good hands. His chose that moment to spark. It was quite pretty.

“Ah,” he said. “Yes. That. I suppose I’m lucky to have gone this long without a demon approaching me.”

“Excuse you!” She puffed up, flaring a little. He scrambled to his feet, eyes wide. “I am no demon!”

“No?” His hand hovered at his waist, over the sword that was suddenly hanging at his side.

“No!”

“What are you, then?” She frowned, because she found she did not know the answer. He watched her struggle with a knowing look in his eye. “Begone, demon,” he said, and then he woke again. Well. That’s one way to have the last word in a conversation.

Oh! That bastard! “He didn’t let me tell him about getting through the snow!”

-0-

“Not a demon,” she complained to his shivering back. He ignored her, content to stew in his misery, curled up on his side and staring as their surroundings shifted back and forth between a blizzard and the ghostly walls of a tent. Fine then. All he had ahead of him right now was days of walking. Surely he could figure out that much on his own.

She played with her form instead, trying to figure out transportation. Not all creatures have legs. How do the rest do it? Wings? She tried on a pair. Then another. She went through several before deciding that no, wings were no better than legs. All unbalanced and uncomfortable.

Perhaps a tail? Fish tails were right out. Snakes have tails. That’s a little better. She didn’t like that it dragged on the ground. She wasn’t happy until it was a wispy, insubstantial thing, tapering into nothingness without ever touching the earth. It swayed gently beneath her. She could snap it, too. She did so happily. Ah yes. That’s the ticket! Movement!

While she was distracted by her form, her surroundings had changed yet again. Stone walls rooted themselves in the side of a mountain. Solid. Substantial. Old. This was a good place. She set off to explore.

-0-

There was a demon in her fortress. It was… leering… at one of Maxwell’s many mages. That was not acceptable behavior. She would not have it.

She prowled towards it. “Excuse me. This domain is mine, now. You’re trespassing.”

It spotted her coming and roared, scattering flame.

Rude! Everyone here was so rude!

“Fine,” she hissed. She could fight dirty too.

-0-

Maxwell sat in a high backed chair, fingers playing absently with the preliminary report for Crestwood in his lap, eyes on the nearby fireplace. The walls were wispy and see-through, except when he looked at them directly. The rug under his chair shifted through patterns: Ferelden, Free Marcher, Antivan. He’d fallen asleep while preparing and brought his work into the fade with him. How cute. His head turned to follow her through the room, but he didn’t move otherwise. “You shouldn’t be able to come to me like this. Vivienne set wards.”

Wards. Hah! Silly man. “Wards don’t stop what’s already in your head, Maxwell.” His eyes narrowed. Ugh. So stubborn.

She played with the flame in the grate. Up. Down. Up. Since he wasn’t in a hurry to leave or ignore her, she’d take that as permission to tell him what she knew. Best have it out of the way if he decided to leave mid conversation again. “There’s a Command spirit in Crestwood.” She rustled the papers in his lap as if with a stray breeze. He jumped, spooked. “She really just wants to go home, and you can help her by doing something you’re going to do anyway, so there’s no reason not to really. Just don’t take Sera when you talk to her, Sera won’t like it. Cole or Solas or Cassandra or Dorian would be better choices. Don’t let Jana join the Wardens. You should definitely take Solas to talk to her.” What else? Oh yes. “Alistair is going to draw his sword on you but he’s being hunted, it’s understandable he’s jumpy and you shouldn’t hold it against him.”

His fingers were still. Everything but the chair and the fire faded as his focus narrowed in on her. “What are you?” he demanded. “Desire? Greed?” She wrinkled her nose. She’d decided that if she was to have eyes and ears, she may as well go ahead with a full face. Therefore, nose. He wasn’t watching her face though. He was watching her play with the fire. “You should know that I will not help you come through. There are plenty of rifts around. Go find one of those if you’re so desperate.”

She wondered if she could be like the fire. Bright. Dim. Bright. “I just want to give you advice.”

“Advice?”

“Yes.” She left the fire alone, concentrating on the soft yellow light of her form. Bright. Bright? Come on.

He tilted his head, resting an elbow on the arm of his chair and propping his cheek on his hand. “Solas says you may be a spirit rather than a demon. Like Cole.”

“Yes. Maybe?” Come on, bright! Up! Ohhh, was that a flicker?

“Spirits have purpose too. Compassion. Valor. What is yours?”

“My purpose?”

“Yes.”

He’s a little slow, isn’t he? “I just told you. To give you advice.”

“I’ve never heard of a spirit called Advice,” he said, a touch wry. She shrugged. Ooo, yes. That time it was certainly a flicker. Progress! “Hm.” He rubbed his fingers over his mouth, thinking. “Guidance? Insight? Wisdom?”

She considered. “Insight.” Accurate enough. Better than Demon, ugh.

-0-

“You’re causing me a lot of trouble, you know.”

Causing trouble? How silly. She’s saving him from trouble. She stuck a pointed finger under his nose. “I was right about Crestwood and you know it.”

He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. But he had. Oh he had. He was thinking about it now, and yes. She was so totally right. “I’m having a very hard time proving I’m not possessed.”

That sounds like a you problem, Maxwell.

“Solas would like to come into my dreams, to meet with you. My advisors are quite eager for me to allow him, since thus far all attempts at expelling you have failed. I tell you because Solas insists it is the polite way of going about things. So, here is the warning: Solas will be joining my dreams tomorrow. I would be much obliged if you would speak with him.”

-0-

She felt Solas when he arrived at the edge of Maxwell’s dream. She could lock him out if she wanted; this was Maxwell’s space after all, not his. Solas waited, patient, all calm curiosity and concern for Maxwell’s wellbeing. She invited him in.

Oh. Oh dear. She knew his emotions would be a mess, but this was really quite the disaster. “I don’t know what to tell you that won’t make you worse,” she informed him sadly.

“That is my burden to bear, not your own,” he corrected her. Calm. At least trying to be polite about it. At last! Someone who wasn’t rude! Of course, he was lying through his teeth to Maxwell. Lying is rude. He’d also just Done Something. Power faded back around his eyes as she watched him watch her. Perhaps she needed to reevaluate.

Maxwell stood by with his arms crossed, one closed fist tap tap tapping at his arm. Solas turned his way. “This is no demon, Inquisitor.”

Never mind. Solas could stay.

-0-

Maxwell cleared his throat, not quite meeting her eyes. “Insight. Solas is convinced you are what you say you are. That there is no possession, but you have latched on to the anchor, somehow. His recommendation is that I… allow you to fulfill your purpose by engaging you in conversation.”

Was he finally going to let her give him the good stuff? “You want to talk!”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose I do.”

She squealed and spun in a circle, glowing happily. His eyebrows shot up his forehead.

She zipped right up to him so she could talk to him properly. Right to his face. He startled. Jumpy. Whatever, she finally had permission for a real conversation! “Tell Dorian about the letter, when it gets here. Be supportive, but try to make him to talk to his family. He’ll be better off in the long run if they do. Tell Vivienne the snowy wyvern heart won’t help; she should look into other avenues of research or go spend time with him before he dies. Cullen should not start taking the lyrium again! He doesn’t deserve what will happen if he does. Don’t let Blackwall go to Val Royaux. It will be much better if he just comes clean and lets you take care of it from here. You have the resources, you can do that, he’s just not thinking. Has Cassandra asked you to look for the Seekers yet?”

He put up a hand. She pulled back the tiniest bit, looking at it. He blinked rapidly, eyebrows dropping into a furrow over his face. He seemed to discard several things before settling on what he wanted to say. “Have you honestly been invading my dreams this entire time only to tell me how to handle my companions?”

She thought this over. “Yes. Relationships are important.” If you don’t take care of your people, what’s the point?

Maxwell made the cutest noises when he was angry.

-0-

The fade in the Western Approach was vast and unending. Sand stretched out in all directions, stars spanning the sky. A massive temple drifted some distance above them. She could feel the demons there, but this little stretch of sand Maxwell claimed as his own, and so it was her domain. The demons did not come near.

She was practicing her glow. She wanted to be like the stars. That shimmery effect is lovely. Also difficult. Maxwell was dancing with his sword. His feet made no noise in the sand. They must land just so, else he trip and stumble.

“Legs seem so complicated. Why do you bother with them?”

“I quite like having legs.” They tangled up under him even as he said it. He righted himself, swearing.

She made a disbelieving noise, tipped her head at the sky. Perhaps if she held her hand up to the stars and focused on seeing the stars through herself? No. No, that just made her invisible.

Maxwell tripped and cursed again. He sure was distracted tonight. What - oh. Ooooooh. “She likes romantic things,” she informed him helpfully. “Flowers and candles and poetry.”

“Yes, Insight, thank you. That will be enough.”

“There are some nice shops in Orlais. That’s on your route back.”

“I said please sto- oh. Yes. Well.”

“You’re welcome.”

-0-

“So. Are you going to tell me who I should bring with me this time?” Maxwell toppled a little figure over with the tip of his finger. The war table floated before him while the walls around them slowly shifted from one of Skyhold’s rooms to another. She hovered at his shoulder, looking at all the trinkets that littered its surface.

Adamant. And… hm. Hmmmmm.

“What’s that face?” He asked, wary.

-0-

“Oh! I wasn’t sure this would work!” she said brightly. Everything about her was bright these days. She’d really figured out this glowing thing.

Two spells and a crossbow bolt shot her way. She ducked around them all and turned on Maxwell with a wounded look. “Your friends are-”

“-Rude, I know. Hello, Insight. Did you know we were coming?”

“Yes!” She’s so happy this worked! That meant Maxwell’s immediate surroundings in the fade remained accessible to her even when he was here physically. “Hello Solas!” He at least was pleased to see her.

“And you didn’t think to warn me? Seems a bit of an oversight.” Maxwell said it lightly, but his arms were crossed, eyes watchful.

“No, it was on purpose,” she assured him. No use getting his hopes up only for her to be unable to reach him. “Come on! The way out is over here.”

A not-so whispered argument broke out at her back. Footsteps followed in her wake, leaving the argument behind. Too soft to be Max. She smiled at Solas as the others cursed and hurried to catch up.

“You can trust her,” she assured them when they came upon the spirit who had taken the form of the Divine. Justinia’s words were for the mortals only. But the Divine’s goals meshed well with her own and so they were content to allow each other to fulfill their own purpose. She watched happily as Maxwell picked up the missing pieces of himself. She did let them battle the lesser demons rather than drive them off as she usually might. This area belonged to someone else. She must save her strength, and not show her hand too early.

Then the rift was in view. “You,” roared the Nightmare.

“Me!” She agreed, and let herself grow large. This was the Nightmare’s seat of power, but he was a glutton grown fat. Her own power was a bubbling well at her back, tied to Maxwell rather than a place. She was here to help those who would help him. She was here for just such a time as this. She flared, and the Nightmare screamed. His power battered at hers, reducing her, but she had the anchor to draw upon. He would diminish first.

“Go!” She called when the way was clear and still they hesitated. “He is mine!”

She was most gratified when they heeded her advice. Not a mortal soul left behind.

-0-

“Thank the Maker,” Maxwell breathed when next he slept. He walked right up to her, raising his hands as if to touch her. They hovered in the air over her shoulders. His tent walls were cast in dim shadows around them, so little was her light. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. The Nightmare was great, but I am greater. I will rest now,” she declared.

“Of course,” he agreed. As he should.

-0-

Maxwell watched her. All through the march home, and then every night since. Usually he brought his work with him into his sleep, but lately there was nothing. She patrolled the keep, as she usually did when he wasn’t doing anything of note. She must keep control of her domain. A nod to those friendly or helpful spirits who lingered, a watchful eye for miscreants. Perhaps a spirit of Duty would not be amiss, to keep the watch when she was away.

Maxwell dogged her route for several nights before finally breaking his silence. “If we could bring you through without you losing yourself or possessing anyone, would you visit my side of the veil?”

“We?”

“Solas and Hawke and I.”

That bore clarification. “A few months ago, you didn’t want me to come.”

His face twisted. “My opinion may have changed. You’ve also caught Hawke’s interest, and she’s recruited Varric to help pester me. My friends would like to get to know you.”

What a strange request.

He touched the air above her hand. “Think on it.”

-0-

She did. Think on it, that was. In fact, she found there was little else she could focus on. It was a very distracting request. Something about the thought of meeting all his friends opened a deep chasm of yearning in some previously unknown part of her.

Perhaps she could. Just a brief visit. She must be sure to keep her face when she crossed, to facilitate conversation.

Legs, though. She would not put up with legs.

-0-

Maxwell’s hand made the veil a thin, thready thing. Hawke invited her through. Solas cast a protective barrier around her, though it was not necessary. She came of her own will and would not lose herself when there was still work to be done. The veil parted, and a curtain ripped open in her mind.

“Oh. Oh no.” She remembered. Remembering was terrible. “Put me back,” she begged. “I want to go back. Put me back!”

Their reaction was immediate. “Insight, it’s all right. You’re all right.” Maxwell, in front of her, focus a laser point. Solas’ face was etched with deep concern. Hawke had already begun to cast. None of it fast enough.

“Put me back now!”

“It’s done,” Hawke said, and it was.

-0-

It was too late though. They put her back, but the curtain, once torn, could not be mended. She still remembered.

-0-

“I’m sorry,” Maxwell told her, hands hovering. Helpless. He could not touch. He went right through when he tried. “I’m so sorry.”

“My parents are gone,” she sobbed. “This isn’t my home.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “My name was Alice.”

“Tell me,” he demanded. So she did.

-0-

Grief. Recovery. Weeks passed.

She remembered what it was to have a body. To have a family. She mourned the loss of both.

She remembered another world. She remembered death, the crumpling of metal and the shattering of bone, and that was both harder and easier.

She thought of Maxwell and his companions and they both were and were not people. They were faces seen through a mirror. Flashes of knowing. Pieces, nothing more. That was not acceptable. They must be people, but her newly expanded mind required more than these piddling little tidbits to think of them as real in the same way her family was real. Such a thing required conversation. Time spent in company.

She needed to try again.

-0-

“We cannot afford to- Maker’s breath.” Cullen stopped dead as she followed Maxwell through the war room door. She appeared here as she did in the fade. Maxwell assured her she’d done a good job of keeping her face. She dimmed her glow until he no longer winced to look at her, and deemed herself acceptable.

The grief was still there, a looming thing, and so it was easier to fall back on being the spirit rather than the person who once was. “You’re through the worst of it,” she told Cullen, because he was. He blinked, frozen, hand still on the pommel of his sword where it had flown when they came in.

“Leliana,” Maxwell said, “Cullen. Josephine. I’d like you to meet someone.”

Her attention fell on Leliana next. “Oh good,” she said, happy. Maxwell had done well there, all on his own. She’d been worried, since she’d missed the opportunity for an early intervention.

Leliana’s eyebrows rose. “This is her. The spirit.”

“Yes. Everyone, this is Insight. Insight, my advisors.”

Such faces they all made.

-0-

She and Cole stared at each other in deep contentment.

“You’re helping,” he said.

“You’re happy,” she returned.

“Eugh, there’s two of them,” Sera complained.

-0-

Dorian asked endless questions. He was unhappy with many of the answers, but he’d grown, since he first arrived. He faced the fear of self challenge head on, now.

Hawke also asked endless questions. Hers tended towards a much less scholarly nature than Dorian’s. Varric egged her on. Their table in the tavern inevitably grew rowdy, especially when the Iron Bull or any of his Chargers dropped in on the conversation.

-0-

“You. You’re the one. I hear I owe you a debt.”

“Your actions condemned you, Blackwall, but they also saved you.”

“You have my thanks, regardless.”

-0-

Cassandra was uncomfortable but trying to hide it. “Do you know,” she said, “The entire time we have been at Skyhold, there has not been one possession. With the veil torn as it is, we thought it inevitable to have at least a few. But no. There have been no abominations at all.”

Cassandra wanted to know why. The answer was important to her. “Skyhold is mine. I won’t let anyone be rude with what’s mine.”

“I thought as much.” Cassandra fixed her with a steely look. “Very well. You have earned the trust of people whose judgment I respect, and according to Maxwell I owe you for more… personal developments as well. I would like to hold discussions with you.”

“I would like to get to know you also, Cassandra.”

-0-

She realized where Maxwell was taking them almost too late and stopped dead in the stairwell. “Oh. No, not that one. She won’t like me, no matter how you try.”

“But-”

“I know you like Vivienne. She respects you too. That’s enough. She doesn’t have to speak to me.”

-0-

They returned to the war room again and again. She looked at each of the little figures and she knew the outcomes of each potential action. They saw the value, of course they did, and so did she, but. Well. She’d rather talk to Leliana about nugs and her own former pets. Or to both women about fashion. Cullen on games of strategy, though the kind she’d liked were quite different from chess.

War room conversations took on a strong tendency to veer off course, especially since she was very adept at ignoring any and all attempts to get back on track. The meetings grew very long indeed. Maxwell radiated satisfaction at her side.

-0-

Maxwell rode to war. Morrigan followed Kieran into the Eluvian. The pieces fell into place.

-0-

She was in that in-between time, alone in the fade. It wasn’t as pleasing as it once was, to be alone. But she must rest some of the time, and Maxwell could not keep her company here in his waking hours.

Then it happened. A door, open. The breach once again in the sky, in the fade, tearing her asunder. It pulled at her, inexorable, the same as it had when it brought her here. She could not stay. Her purpose fulfilled, her time was done. But a choice. A choice yet remained, a way was opened. Move on, or don’t.

Skyhold’s ghostly walls solidified around her. Five people stared at her over a table filled with trinkets, the green glow through the windows highlighting shock on all their faces.

“Corypheus waits in the valley,” she announced, and toppled. Maxwell lunged forward to catch her. His arms did not pass through her, because she was here. Fully here. With a body and everything. She was even wearing clothes. They constrained and itched and were both warm and not warm enough.

“Legs,” she told him mournfully.

“Legs,” he laughed, agreeing, and something in him relaxed with recognition. He cradled her to his chest. “Is this - you’re here.”

“It would have taken me away.”

“The breach?”

“Yes. I chose.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat. His face did something complicated. For the first time, she didn’t know immediately what the expression meant.

“You have to go take care of it,” she reminded him. “We will speak when you return.”

“You’re done giving insight now that you’re corporeal?” He teased, but expression did not match the words. She knew this one. Worry.

She considered. “Morrigan’s idea will work. I think I would like to be called Alice again. Don’t let Corypheus kill you.”

He laughed, pressed his forehead to hers. “Yes. I suppose not dying would be best.”

-0-

Legs were very tricky things. Alice had forgotten how to use hers. She was carried to the entrance of the main hall and seated in a chair so she could watch Maxwell leave. He still had a wild look in his eye, barking orders and radiating worried snarliness.

“There will be no attack here,” she informed him sternly. “The threat is in the valley. You have to go.”

He exhaled hard, closing his eyes. “Cullen,” he snapped.

“We will look after her, and everyone else here,” Cullen soothed. “You have my word.” Josephine murmured agreement. Her hand was a spot of warmth on Alice’s shoulder. The air in the mountains was cold. Leliana draped her with a blanket.

She watched Maxwell ride out the gate, all his companions on his heels, and knew he would return.

-0-

Two days later, the open door slammed shut for the final time.

-0-

Bodies took effort. Stomach and bladder and temperature and legs. Legs were the hardest. The healer said her muscles were weak, that she must work to gain strength.

So Alice lifted small items and shuffled her feet with all her weight supported by other bodies walking close. She was given new clothes and food and a bed. She took rest in a chair by Varric’s fire or Josephine’s desk and she waited. They all waited.

The cry went up as she and Josephine were taking tea. She liked tea. It was warm, soothing in her chest and her cold hands. Josephine jolted to her feet. Cullen and Leliana met her at the door of her office. Cullen’s hair was tousled by wind. Leliana did not look as though she took the steps down from her tower three or more at a time, although that was precisely what she had done.

“They’re back,” Leliana said, shaking out a blanket and tucking it over Alice’s lap with brisk, hurried motions.

“Everyone?” Josephine breathed.

“Solas is not with them.”

Cullen shook his head. “There will be time for that discussion later.” He scooped Alice into his arms, taking the blanket with them.

And so she watched from the landing of the stairs as Maxwell returned triumphant. He strode up the steps to meet them, lifting Alice from Cullen’s arms. He laughed, spinning her in a circle, and she laughed with him.

“It’s done,” he said. “It’s done.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “You’re home. We’re home.”


End file.
